


Pet

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Introspection, Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, No actual sex, Short & Sweet, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Intriguing, nonetheless, this idea that Jim Moriarty had, of a pet normal person."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of far too much of A Perfect Circle, as evidenced by the title. I tried to make it obscene without being descriptive, and I’m still not quite sure why I have such a masochistic streak. As per the norm, I don't own these guys.

Interesting.

A _pet_ normal person.

What a novel concept. He was almost sure, actually, that Sherlock was offended by the idea that John Watson was in any way his pet--the term he would surely have used being _friend_ or _companion_. They’d surely advanced beyond _colleague_.

Intriguing, nonetheless, this idea that Jim Moriarty had, of a _pet_ normal person.

He had Anthea, of course, but she was exceptional, in no way normal.

Perhaps his occasional liaison with the Detective Inspector--

Ah.

Of course.

He could have his own little toys, just as Sherlock could. How he played with them, though, was his own business.

“Does it hurt now?” he murmured against a heaving chest.

“God, yes…”

“Do you want me to stop?” How interesting. How utterly fascinating, this man’s every reaction.

“God, please don’t…”

Never mind the PA tapping away at her Blackberry in the corner. It had taken the Detective Inspector (currently strung up from the ceiling quite creatively) several of these encounters to get used to her presence, asexual and oblivious as it was.

He ran his fingers slowly over the Detective Inspector’s sweaty flanks, then followed gently with his lips, feeling a thrill of enthrallment as a shudder ran through his prisoner. He was so interesting. He twisted his occupied hand, a convulsion running through the good Detective Inspector.

“And now?” he murmured.

“ _Please_.” He ran his free hand through iron-gray hair and smiled, a parody of benevolence which had fooled countless government officials, but never this remarkable person beneath his fingers.

He twisted his hand once more, and the Detective Inspector peaked impressively with a moan, earning him a fierce kiss.

How delightful, really, how precious was this man in front of him. How intriguing.

“Next week, same time?” He asked pleasantly, but the poor Detective Inspector was quite thoroughly unconscious. He nodded to Anthea, who hurried forward to undo the leather straps with a curt nod in reply.

He stepped out of the room, going to the window of his study and standing there. When Anthea strode in with his clothing neatly folded, he offered, “Thank you, my dear. Is the Detective Inspector comfortable?”

She nodded. “He’s in the guest wing.”

He dismissed her with a nod and pulled on his clothing.

In all this time, he had never asked the Detective Inspector’s first name.

Naming a pet was the first step to becoming irrevocably attached, after all.


End file.
